


Falling in Love Will Kill You

by LadyFogg



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: Biting, Blood Kink, Choking, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love Confessions, Masochism, Mild Blood, Sadism, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29938101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: It’s your 60th Devil’s Night, hosted by the ever-charming James March, former mentor and secret object of your desires. To mark the special occasion, you finally decide to tell him your true feelings during your usual post-Devil’s Night chat. It goes better than you could have ever dreamed.
Relationships: James Patrick March/Reader, James Patrick March/You
Kudos: 11





	Falling in Love Will Kill You

You died on October 30, 1955.

It wasn’t a particularly painful death, but it was slow. And boring. So damn boring.

You attended your first Devil’s Night the following year, which had been truly an honor that you had only dreamed of achieving one day. It had still been in its infancy when James had told you about it, and though you were one of his pupils, you held no illusions that that guaranteed you a seat at the table.

Now, you sit at James’s right, enjoying your glass of wine as the evening winds down. It’s certainly been an eventful one. Aileen is doing her usual song and dance, while the others prepare to return to their homes. Yours is right where you are: the Hotel Cortez.

You still remember the day like it was yesterday and smile fondly at the images of the bright sunny morning, and you, sitting in a bathtub soaking in your own blood.

James clinks his glass to gather everyone’s attention and the discussion dies down. “Well, I must say, ladies and gentlemen, that this year has been a wonderous one indeed,” he says, his sharp voice sending waves of pleasure through you just as much as it did when you first met. “As a final announcement, I’d ask that you all join me wishing our friend here a happy sixtieth Devil’s Night.” He raises his glass to you in a toast.

The others join in and cheer, while you raise your glass back at James. “You flatter me, Mr. March,” you say, throwing him a coy smile.

“On the contrary, old friend,” he says. “I have mentored many a serial-killer since my death and I can honestly say, none took my advice so much to heart. Your reign of terror, while short-lived, was decadently bloody and beautiful. You are certainly my greatest achievement.”

His words do flatter you, and James doesn’t tend to offer flattery up so willingly. You bow your head with respect before downing the rest of your drink and slamming your glass on the table. “Alright, you freeloaders,” you tell your friends. “Time to head out. And Jeffrey, take your little toy with you.”

James chuckles as the others laugh. “You heard the lady,” he says. “We’ll see you all again next year.”

Minimal goodbyes are passed around before the others disperse and Miss Evers closes the door behind them.

Despite being dead, you still feel a hint of exhaustion. Manifesting to others for such a long stretch of time tends to get tiresome after a while, even for someone who has been dead as long as you have. That and you may have gone a little overboard on dessert.

“Thank you for your kind words, James,” you say as your host moves to the record player to stop whatever hideous song Richard chose. “I wasn’t expecting them.”

“They are well-deserved, my dear,” he says. “Now, which song would you like to listen to this time? Lady’s choice.”

With a smile, you lean back in your seat, pouring yourself another glass of wine. “Surprise me.”

James selects something classic and quiet, the soft tones bringing the evening to a calming energy. Miss Evers scurries around cleaning up but James waves her off. “That’ll be all, Miss Evers, thank you. You may finish cleaning later.”

Ever his dutiful servant, she bows. But on her way out, you catch her eye and the look she gives you is anything but pleasant. Your response is a cheeky smile and a wave.

“What I don’t understand is,” James continues, moving around the table. He pulls out the chair next to you and sits down. “why you decided to cut your own killing-spree so dreadfully short. It is true that you are my greatest achievement. But you are also my greatest disappointment.”

His words sting a little, but you’re used to his casual cruelty by now. You take a large sip of your wine. “I had my reasons. Well, one reason in particular.”

“You’ve never said. Please, regale me with the tail,” James insists. He pours himself some scotch from the bottle in the center of the table.

“There’s not much to tell,” you say. “After all, you were there. You saw the aftermath.”

“It was a beautiful sight,” James says with a wide smile. “You even chose that flouncy little number that you did all your killings in. What was it that they called you again?”

“The Bloody Housewife.”

“Ah, yes. That’s it. Catchy, definitely catchy.” James leans back in his seat, swirling the contents in his glass. “I would have stopped you of course but you decided to take your life during my monthly dinner with the Countess, knowing I’d be too distracted to notice. Very, very clever. I’m honored you chose the hotel as your final resting place. I must say, it has been nice having a kindred spirit to share drinks with from time to time. Even if we don’t see each other very often.”

“Now, whose fault is that?”

James’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you accusing me of keeping my distance?”

“It’s your hotel, James. You know everything that goes on here and everyone who roams your halls. And yet, you’ve never visited me in my room. Since we are ‘kindred spirits’ as you claim, it does make a girl wonder if it’s perhaps something personal.”

This back and forth with James has been a dance you’ve done for years. Deep down, you suspect he knows what you’ve never spoken out loud, but you didn’t know for sure until this very evening. James’s body stiffens and even though he’s smiling, there is a tension in his jaw that you’re all too familiar with.

“I am a busy man, even in death,” he says. “I have better things to do than visit each of my residents on a daily basis.”

Smirking, you finish your wine and set it on the table. “And I suppose you never gave it a thought to my death date either?”

“Should I have?”

“The connection was blaringly obvious, even the others can see it.”

James doesn’t respond. You can tell your little chat isn’t going how he expected or wanted it to, if his hand tightening on the head of his cane is any indication. “Most pupils find innovative ways to honor their mentors,” he says before downing his drink in one gulp.

“And many of those same pupils fall in love with their mentors.”

His body stiffens at your words, empty cup still touching his lips as his eyes dart to yours. You’re as calm as can be, crossing your legs so the hem of your tight dress rides up. The fur coat draped around your shoulders completes the stunning image you know is laid before him.

James gives you a calculated look as he places his glass on the table. “Now that certainly is a bold statement,” he says. “One I am surprised at you for making.”

“No you’re not.”

His hand flexes around the cane and he tilts his head with that dangerous smile of his. “You presume to know too much, old friend,” he says through gritted teeth.

“On the contrary, James. I know quite a bit. And the best part is,” You lean in close and lower your voice to just above a whisper. “I’ve learned it all from you.”

“Ha!” James slaps his knee in amusement, mirroring your body language. With a fist propped under his chin he says. “Please, enlighten me with what you think you know.”

“I’ve noticed bits and pieces over the years,” you say. “But I didn’t know for sure until tonight. And do you know what gave you away?” You don’t wait for his answer. “The music.”

James raises an eyebrow.

You cup your hands around your mouth like you’re telling him a secret. “You let me pick the music.”

He sits back, waving his hand dismissively. “That proves nothing. I am nothing if not a generous host, my dear. You know this.”

“I do,” you say, leaning back and resting your elbow over the back of the chair. “I also know you’ve been calling me ‘my dear’ for the better part of ten years now. You didn’t use to call me that before.”

“So music and a term of endearment?” James questions. “Interesting evidence, although I do not know what you’re accusing me of.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, James. I’m confessing to you.”

“By all means, confess away,” James says, resting both hands on his cane this time. His dark eyes dance with dangerous excitement, the kind you’ve seen when he’s cornering his prey.

“I am in love with you, James Patrick March. Always have been. And I am fairly confident that you’re in love with me too.”

The music finishes, leaving the room in tense silence broken only by the sound of the record spinning. You and James stare at each other, unblinking. A moment later, James scoffs and gets to his feet.

“I know death can be tedious at times but making up wild accusations is most unbecoming.” He shuts the record player off before twirling around to face you once more. “As for you being in love with me, well, that’s certainly an intriguing set of circumstances.”

You examine your flawless red nail polish, for once not buying his dismissal. “Let’s drop the pretense, James. I chose your birthday as the day to kill myself. Surely you aren’t that blind to the coincidence.”

“I’m dead, dear. Not stupid.” He studies you for a moment. “Why did you not tell me sooner?”

You shrug, getting to your feet. “What good would it have done? You were still in love with your wife. I couldn’t nor did I want to compete with the object of your desires.”

“And now you do?”

“Now…” You get to your feet swiftly, moving towards him with cat-like precision. “There is no competition.”

James remains perfectly still, his eyes watching your every move. You stop short just in front of him, just enough for him to feel the coldness of your body without touching.

“That’s one thing I’ve always admired about you, old friend,” he says. “Your greatly misplaced confidence.”

“Insult and deny all you’d like, James. But music and nicknames aren’t the only reasons why I know you love me.”

“Go on.”

“You sit me at your right hand, for starters. Every few years you move my place setting closer and closer to you. I suspect you’d have me on your lap one of these years.”

“That is a delightfully obscene image.”

“These talks of ours is another indicator. They started small, simple chats and catch ups once everyone leaves. But they’ve dragged on over the years, turned from minutes, to hours, sometimes even days. Now, you send Miss Evers away before she even has a chance to clean the linens, and you do know how much she loves that.”

“She does,” James admits. “Which reminds me, I must speak to her about picking up a hobby. Just because you’re dead does not mean you can’t continue educating and honing new skills.”

“Stay on topic, James. I have one final piece of evidence.”

Your breath mingles with his, yet even still, James remains right where he is. Neither moving nor pushing you away. “Which is?” he asks.

You lean in close to his ear before suddenly reaching down to grab his cock through his pants. The hardness against your palm sends a thrill of excitement through you as you flick your tongue across his earlobe.

“You’re rock hard, _old friend_.”

With a snarl, James drops his cane and grabs you, one hand fisting your hair while he snakes his arm around your waist. His mouth crashes against yours in a flurry of teeth and tongue as he kisses you with such passion, anger, and want it takes your breath away. Metaphorically of course.

You give as good as you get, moaning into his mouth while grabbing his suit jacket for support. James pushes you backwards until you hit the table, his hands dropping to your thighs so he can hoist you onto it.

Finally kissing the man you’ve loved for over sixty years is unlike anything you’ve every experienced, dead or alive. It’s like the world suddenly makes sense, like everything you’ve ever done has built to this moment in time. He rips the fur coat from your shoulder as he licks and kisses your cheek, then neck, before biting hard on the newly exposed flesh. You let out a cry of pain that quickly dissolves into a moan of pleasure.

“What’s the verdict, Mr. March?” you ask with a grin.

James pulls back, eyes wild and mouth agape with excitement. “This is why you have always been my favorite,” he says, yanking on your hair to jerk your head back. “You see things no one else does.”

“Honestly, what really gave it away was your pants. They’re expertly tailored, love, but they’re shit at hiding your erection.”

“Who said I was trying to hide it?”

“Then why all the denial and dramatics?”

James growls low in his throat, nuzzling your cheek. “The hunt, darling, is just at exciting as devouring the prey. You may know me, but I know you as well. You relish in the unattainable. You love torturing yourself. Now what kind of a man would I be if I did indulge you just a little?”

He pulls you off the table and spins you around, ripping the coat the rest of the way off your body. When he finally sees the way your dress tightly hugs your frame, he chuckles. “My, my, dear. You certainly leave little to the imagination.”

But the moment he pulls your dress up, he stops, his hands coming in contact with thick leather straps.

“What have we here?” he asks, running his fingers across them.

“Unzip me and see for yourself.”

Intrigued by your game, he does as you say, pulling the zipper down and allowing you to shimmy out of the expensive fabric. Underneath your dress you wear a collection of leather straps, bound together in a tight, vulgar harness.

“My goodness, my dear,” James says, spinning you around so he can look at the front. “You look like the most debauched present ready to be unwrapped.”

“I would say it’s all for you, but it isn’t. It’s for me.” You take his hands and run them along the sides so he can feel how they dig into your skin. “I like the pain of it, the way it marks my skin. I wear it tight all day so when I take it off at the end, the sudden relief is orgasmic.”

James growls, going in for another bruising kiss. For once in your afterlife, you allow yourself to fully give in to your feelings for him, to kiss him back with just as much force and desire as you’ve always wanted. But when he tries to turn you around again, you shove him away. Using the table to steady yourself, you lift your foot and press your high-heel against the center of his chest.

“Not so fast,” you say. “There’s just one little thing we must settle before this continues.”

He glances down at your foot with amusement. “And what might that be?”

“You have to say it.”

“Say what?”

You raise your eyebrow pointedly. “James, don’t play coy with me. You’re not particularly good at it.”

“You wound my pride.”

“I’ll wound much more…” You dig the sharpened point of your heel into his chest and James lets out a dirty noise, his hands wrapping around your ankle. “Say. It.”

“Yes, yes, fine, I love you, alright.”

He shoves your foot away before attacking you with more kisses. This time you let him, impatiently pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders while his hands run across every inch of your body he can reach. The second he gets his pants around his ankles, he lifts you onto the table again, a hand snaking down between your legs. When he finds you pantie less, you can feel his grin against your lips.

Again he pauses, but this time it’s when his thumb skims over the hint of a scar on your thigh. “Such a shame,” he tuts. “Having this otherwise flawless skin marred. Not that I mind markings, of course. I’d much prefer ones I’ve given you.”

“Look at it before you judge.”

James steps back and slips his hand under your knee so he can spread your legs wide. Along your inner thigh, his own initials stare back at him, carved into your skin by your own hand and long since healed over.

“I did it the day after we met,” you say, affectionately. “I knew doing it after I died would only mean it would heal on its own. This way it’s there forever.”

“You planned your death even back then?”

“I did. And now that we’re finally together, my love, perhaps you can make new marks.”

James hums in appreciation. “It’s a pity they’ll heal. No matter, I’ll just have to make them over and over again.”

He shoves you onto your back and the next thing you know, his cock is inside you, thrust in all at once and making you arch your back with pleasure. The moment is everything you ever wanted it to be. Finally being filled by such a glorious man makes your body come alive for the first time in decades. Even prior to your death, you don’t remember ever feeling so full or invigorated.

James fucks you hard on the table, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs so deep that his blunt nails leave half-moon indents. He’s rough, and brutal, and magnificent. Years of pining and waiting pay off as you finally experience the pleasure you’ve only dreamt about.

Seconds later, it’s gone when James pulls out, panting. You’re left so brutally empty that you can’t help but let the tears well in your eyes. Neither one of you came so you have no idea why he has stopped.

James is calm as he pulls his pants back up, leaving the button undone. He manages to hook his fingers through the strap between your breasts and yanks you onto your feet.

“What a delightful appetizer,” he purrs, sliding his arm around your waist so he can hold you against his chest. His mouth brushes yours as he talks, his free hand pushing your hair back from your face. “I do apologize for my haste. I simply could not help myself with you looking so ready and willing. However, I’ve decided that I refuse to have our first fornication on the table like barbarians, especially since that means I cannot take my time with you.”

Relief washes over you and you steal a kiss. “Do your worst, Mr. March.”

“I plan to, darling. I plan to.”

With one arm still anchored around your waist, he scoops his cane up off the floor and in a blink, you find yourself in a new room of the hotel, one you haven’t been in yet. It’s large and richly decorated like the others, but everything looks to be on the more expensive side. The gold trim of the walls shines bright as though just polished and one-of-a-kind artwork hangs on the walls. Your eyes are immediately drawn to a gigantic four-poster bed already turned down and waiting. The sheets themselves are made of the finest silks and you can’t wait to feel them slide against your skin.

“Do you like it?” James asks in your ear. He tosses his cane onto the bed so he can use both hands to cup your face. “I had it decorated especially for you, my dear. Once I knew I was going to have you some day.”

“It’s marvelous, James. Though I do think, the sheets are far too clean.”

His hands slide down to close around your throat and he pulls you into another biting kiss. You both maneuver your way towards the bed. Before things can go further, you’re determined to rid him of his clothing so you can finally get your hands on his body. They’re left in your wake and by the time the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, he’s finally bare before you.

“Such beautiful skin,” you marvel, running your hands down his chest. “I can’t wait to see what’s underneath.”

James growls, snapping his teeth at you. “There will be plenty of time for all of it, my dear. We have eternity. Just you. And me. Here, until the sun falls from the sky.”

“Marry me.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Forgive me, dearest, but I believe it’s the gentleman’s job to propose marriage.”

“I don’t care. “

James considers your request. When he speaks, there is hesitation in his voice. “Nothing would honor me more than you agreeing to become my wife. Unfortunately, there is the little matter of my already being married.”

“’Til death do you part, James. You’re dead. Therefore, you’re no longer married.”

He laughs, delighted and amused. “Right you are! Well then, I suppose our vows need to be a bit more permanent.”

“They do. Now…” You spin the both of you before pushing him onto the bed and straddling him. “I’ve waited a long time to have you underneath me. And yet, I can’t decide what to do first.”

“Let me.”

He yanked his blade from the cane and ever so gently slid it between your body and leather straps that covered it. Sucking in the breath, a thrill of excitement ran down your spine at the coldness of the metal. The blade is so sharp that even with a simple flick of his wrist, James is able to sever the thick straps. All at once endorphins rush through your body and you can’t help but throw your head back and moan.

James sits up, ridding you of the harness before switching your positions so you’re spread out beneath him. “Beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” he coos, fingertips running along the indentations. You reach up and pull him down into a kiss.

The sounds you’re able to draw out of him drive you crazy, especially when you yank on the hair at the base of his skull. He lets out a grunt, teeth biting on your bottom lip as his hands touch every bit of you he can. Your hand blindly seeks his wrist before forcing him to touch you where you’re aching for him most.

James hums, sliding two fingers through your arousal as you latch your mouth onto his exposed throat. “You are positively dripping for me and I haven’t even done anything to you yet.”

“I beg to differ. You gave me your cock for several glorious moments before rudely taking it away. Of course I’m still wet.”

Your words dissolve into a moan as he pushes his fingers as far into you as they can go. “How rude of me to keep my love waiting, my apologies.” His fingertips brush against that most exquisite spot inside and you see stars.

He sinks his teeth into your neck, biting hard enough to draw blood as he ruthlessly fingers you. Such wonderful pain mixed with undeniable pleasure. It’s enough to rip an orgasm out of you without any build up or preamble. It even surprises you when your body locks into place, thighs crushing his wrist as waves of pleasure cascade over you like a brilliant waterfall.

By the noise of surprise he lets out, James seems positively delighted. “Well that didn’t take very long now did it,” he says, pulling away from your bloody neck to smirk down at you.

“Can you blame me?”

“Not in the slightest.”

You moan when his fingers slip out of you but as he goes to turn you on your stomach, you stop him. “No. Not for the first time,” you say. “I want you to look me in the eye when you take me. So those no mistaking who you’re with, no pretending I’m someone else.”

“I can assure you, my dear, I am thinking of you and only you.”

James hooks your legs around his waist and thrusts deeply into your still quaking body. To finally have that fullness again is euphoric, and you bask in the feeling as James takes you hard and fast. It seems any thoughts of going slow go out the window the moment he’s inside you. James is every bit the animal you know him to bit, growling, spiting, and biting as he finally takes your body. When he kisses you harshly, you can taste your own blood on his lips and it only makes you more possessive.

“James!” you moan, nails clawing down his back, enough to draw his blood this time. “Claim me, mark me, have me!”

He grinds his hips against yours, pounding you into the mattress as one hand snakes around your throat and squeezes. Your scramble to breathe is purely reflex at this point. Deep down, you know you don’t have to, but your body goes through the motions anyways, gasping for breath as your lover jams his thumb into your windpipe.

He growls your name, panting across your lips, his dark eyes staring deep into yours. “Stunning,” he declares as you scratch at his shoulders. “Absolutely stunning.”

You dig your high-heel into his backside, earning a gasp and forcing him to release your throat. Quick as a flash, you roll him onto his back, riding his cock with reckless abandon. James is delighted by the switch. His hands fall to your waist and he thrusts his hips up to meet yours, pounding upward into your wet heat as his eyes roll back in his head. You dig your nails into his chest when you come, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see the red marks form on his flawless pale skin.

It’s his turn to arch his back in pleasure, that perfectly coiffed hair a mess and that wonderous voice singing out his orgasm as he fills you with his seed.

He’s beautiful.

You collapse against him, shaking and panting. He wraps his arms around you to hold you close. Sharing a few lazy kisses, James rolls you both onto your sides. In the process, his softening cock slips out of you, painting your thighs with his essence. Without a word, he reaches down to drag his thumb through the mess, before bringing it to your lips and offering you a taste, which you hungrily accept.

“I say, my dear, you are positively delectable,” he says, eyes hooded as he watches your tongue snake around his thumb. He pulls his hand away but only so he can stroke the bite he left behind, swirling in small patterns down your neck and across your shoulder. “I haven’t orgasmed that hard in ages.

“As are you, my dear betrothed. Oh drat! I left my fur downstairs!” you lament. “I really liked that one. The socialite I killed for it had such exquisite taste.”

“I’ll get you new ones.”

“None that belonged to _her_.”

“Of course not. Who do you think I am? My love deserves riches all her own. I recently heard of something called the internet. Apparently one can purchase anything they desire and have it delivered directly to them without having to even leave their home.”

“This new technology certainly is a wonder,” you say. “It gives everyone access to anything and everything. One of the couples I murdered last spring had a treasure trove of sexual tools. Perhaps we can delve into those as well. I believe one of them is called a sex swing.” You throw your leg over his waist and pull him in close. “You could strap me into it and have your wicked way with me. I won’t even be able to move, just hang there and _take_ it.”

James’s eyes dance with excitement. “So many new things to explore and an eternity to do it.”

“That’s right, my love.” You run your hands through his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp. “Speaking of exploring, I think my mouth can be better suited elsewhere, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Most definitely, darling.” He rolls onto his back, propping his head behind his hands as you slink down the bed towards his cock. “And while you’re there, be a dear and clean up the mess you made. I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

\---

Elizabeth strolls down the familiar halls of her home, towards the room where she and James have their monthly dinner. While she loathes the man beyond reason, he had been her husband and she knew the only way to placate him was to attend the dinners he so desperately clung to.

When she rang the bell, she expects the door to instantly fly open as it always does. Except this time, nothing happens.

Never one to be kept waiting or ring twice, the Countess turns the knob and is surprised to step into a dark and empty room. There is no music, no dinner, no candles, but what is stranger, there is no James. She can count on one hand the number of times he’s missed their dinners.

The only indication that she is expected was a single glass of wine on the table with an envelope propped against it. Elizabeth picks it up, recognizing James’s tidy script. Using her nail, she slices the envelope open and pulls out the letter within.

_Elizabeth,_

_I am sorry that I will be unable to attend our monthly dinner. In fact, consider our arrangement terminated. I’m sure this will please you greatly as I am well aware of what little regard you have for me. As luck would have it, I have remarried, and my new bride and I will be tucked away on our honeymoon for the foreseeable future. Operation of the hotel is in your capable hands as always, though I will check in from time to time. So long as the new Mrs. March is resting, which may not be for a while. She is insatiable. I barely had time to write this letter before she was begging for more. But I’ll spare you the salacious details._

_Best of luck. Give Bartholomew my love._

_James Patrick March_

Elizabeth actually laughs, a full-blown laugh she hasn’t done in years. Amused beyond belief, she raises the wine glass to the happy couple, toasting their nuptials with gusto. She has a sneaking suspicion who exactly took her ex-husband from her, not that she has any complaints. In fact, she plans to buy the two the most lavish of wedding presents as soon as she leaves.

Tossing the letter back on the table, Elizabeth sweeps from the room, glad to be rid of the man who has haunted her existence for decades.

Several floors above in your new marital bed, you lay sweating and panting, your arms pinned to your sides as James lets his mouth explore, sliding down your body and leaving a trail of saliva and teeth marks as he goes.

You surrender yourself to him, easing up the control you so desperately clung to in favor of giving everything you have to your new husband.

He’s so close to your core, you can’t stand it. And yet, he ignores it in favor of lavishing his initials in hot licks and bites. You moan, trying to free your hands so you can grab his hair and bring him to where you really want him.

“My dear, do I need to tie you down already?” James asks with a teasing hint to his voice. “Or are you going to be a good girl and stay put if I let you go?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

He moves quickly, binding your wrists with the silk ties he fastened the headboard the day after Devil’s Night. With your arms stretched above you, he can see his handy work, admiring the myriad of cuts and bruises that litter your body.

“I believe it’s time for me to taste you again,” he says, returning to the space between your legs. “And if you would be so kind as you squeeze my head with your thighs again, that would be wonderful. It makes me feel like I’m drowning in your arousal and my, what a way to go.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. March,” you grin. “I’m all yours.”

James grins, lowering his mouth to your aching cunt which has been begging for his attention for hours. “You certainly are, Mrs. March. You certainly are.”


End file.
